Licentia Lacrima
by Seirene
Summary: Onward to an uncertain future. Onward to my aspirations. Onward to the life I must live... for sanity’s sake... and mine.


_"Freedom sure is pricey."_  
_**Lacrimosa dies illa**_

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I screamed-  
_desperate_ and_ agonized_.  
He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.  
Please wake up! Don't just lie there like that...

It's too late... _I'm_ too late. Zack's gone. Zack will no longer talk, no longer laugh, cry... or get angry... What about me?? What am I supposed to do?! What about my pain, **crippling** me from inside out? What about my fear, **washing** me under the current?

Save me, _someone_... anyone.

My grip is trembling on this sword of pride and dreams. My mouth is so dry even the rain could not quench my thirst. My eyes burn with guilt and anger, brimming over with the tears of defeat.

Just as the flood of pain filled tears came; all feeling has just run dry. All that is left is mist... a thick emotionless fog.

I want to die, right here beside you. It can't be that bad- you're smiling after all. But your last words linger here in this silent graveyard, hovering about as a desperate last request: continue living. Claim the gift of freedom you fought so hard to achieve. A privilege you traded your own blood for.

I'm rising now. My legs are still numb. Nowhere as numb as my mind, though. But if I'm going to fufill your death wish; I have to fight through this apathetic haze. There's no dying for me, not today at least.

This sword is pretty heavy. How much pride and hope were we talking about anyway? I smile a bit, and the fog lessens ever so slightly. The expression on your face tells me that even in death, you're still the old wise-crack I knew. Don't worry, one day this sword will be light as a feather. I'll carry the weight of both our lives and achieve these ambitious dreams.

It's time to go. But before I leave, I hope you have the sweetest of dreams. "Good night, Zack," I say. You more than deserve that. We'll meet up again _someday_,_somewhere_.

_**Qua resurget ex favilla**_

I take my first steps (stumble actually). Nevertheless, I'm moving. Amidst this deserted wasteland, Midgar, the Mecca of hope, rises triumphantly in the distance. It hurts to walk. It hurts to stumble. It hurts to carry this much weight. Hope is on the horizon, but the haze seems to be getting thicker. I can't feel that desperation anymore, only the piercing ache of my own bones. What's wrong with this body? Why is it so hard to move on?

I take a break, falling face forward into the damp dirt, inhalling some in the process. My lungs protest, and I begin to choke, causing my throat to join in on the fun. It's hard to breath. The air seems so thick, and the sky... the sky is so much darker. The fog is doing me in. I have to get up, or else I won't be able to get up later. Frankly, I don't feel like being food for the buzzards today.

_**Judicandus homo reus.**_

Dragging, dragging, dragging along. The giant sword is trailing behind me. It seems lighter now that we're getting closer to the city. Those piercing pains come back every now and then, but I'm used to it. Or so I thought. Bam! Face down into the dirt again. This time, I'm not coming up. The thick mist of apathy decides to engulf me instead.

_**Huic ergo parce, Deus:**_

There's no more sunlight. It's a total eclipse. My body is shaking from the cold, and I have no more energy to get up. _"I won't forget."_ Forget what? Where am I? Why is it so cold?

The steel doors in front of me read "SECTOR 4". There's so much light and noise everywhere, it's hard to think. Not to mention the smell... it smells like... poverty. My body is in unbearable pain, but I'll freeze if I keep lying here. Cold and confused, I drag myself toward the steel doors, giant sword trailing behind me. Come to think of it, whose sword is this anyway? What city is this? Why can't I remember anything?

_**Pie Jesu Domine,**_

_"I give you my pride and dreams."_ Someone probably gave it to me while I was on my way here. But why am I here? The steel doors groan open, and a rush of polluted air fills my lungs. The air is instantly rejected by my already ragged breath. I stumble forward, deeper into this odd haze of light and sound. My arms are too weak to hold on to this _damn_ sword. It can't be worth that much... I'll just leave it here-_"Hold on to your dreams! If you want to become a hero you have to hold on to your dreams."_

What the _hell_? Who the heck was _that_? Okay, I'm definitely losing it. What dreams? Whoever said I wanted to be a hero anyway? The voice laughs mockingly back. Alright, alright, shut up. I'll pick it up.

I drag the heavy sword up once again. There's a train station up ahead, maybe I'll get my answers somewhere in this city.

_**Dona eis requiem.**_

And so I trudge onward,  
grip trembling on this sword of **pride** and **dreams**.  
Mouth **unquenched** by the falling rain.  
Eyes burning with **determination**.

Onward to an uncertain future.  
Onward to _my_ aspirations.  
Onward to the life I must live...

for sanity's sake...  
and mine.

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Because,  
_"I am the proof you existed." _  
_**Amen.**_

* * *

** a few notes: **my first completed fanfic. i have a tendency to start writing these and never get them finished. overall i'm happy with it, but i know it could always be better. if you're still don't get it, this story is based on the events of crisis core and ffvii. it takes place right after zack dies and cloud starts his journey to midgar. along the way he basically becomes delusional as the mako poisoning and amnesia begin to take great effect. the eventual product is the unknowing cloud we all are familiar with in ffvii. and yes, i stole a few of the first line from aeris's death. it's kind of funny how well it applied to zack's death. 

**some translations:** licentia lacrima is latin for freedom's tears. the song that inspired me to write this and is seen throughout the story is lacrimosa from the requiem mass by mozart. it's a really magnificent piece (even if it's unfinished). the lyrics translate as follows (they appear in the fic line by line):

Mournful that day,  
on which will rise from ashes  
guilty man for judgment.  
So have mercy, O God, on this person.  
Compassionate Lord Jesus,  
grant them rest. Amen.

_FFVII & Crisis Core & all related characters belong to Square Enix and their respective owners._


End file.
